


Aftermath

by transience



Category: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat
Genre: Ascension, Coronation, Damen worries but Laurent is completely chill and knows how to get stuff done, Laurent interacting with commoners in Aikelos, M/M, one flower crown
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-07
Updated: 2016-05-07
Packaged: 2018-06-06 22:07:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6772135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/transience/pseuds/transience
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the events in Kings Rising, Damien and Laurent have a lot to figure out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Aftermath

**Author's Note:**

> I keep writing Akielos as Aikelos i don't know why

_The thought of days of bed rest and physicians was made sweeter by the thought of Laurent alongside him, making barbed remarks in public, and in private, newly tender. He thought, Laurent alongside him for all the span of his days. He lifted his fingers to touch Laurent’s face. Iron links dragged over marble._

_‘You know, you’re going to have to unchain me at some point,’ said Damen. Laurent’s hair was soft._

_‘I will. At some point. What’s that sound?’_

_He could hear it even in the slave baths, muffled but audible, the sound ringing out from the highest peak, a peal of notes, proclaiming a new king. ~~~~_

_‘Bells,’ said Damen._

* * *

 

 

It felt like ages before Laurent actually got to unchaining Damen, but as the manacles clicked open, Damen wished they could have stayed like that for a while more, with Laurent within his reach as Damen traced the planes of his face, light suffusing his hair, his eyes, his entire being. Damen had closed his eyes as he kissed Laurent, and thought of a day where the bells would ring for an occasion at least as joyous. He had thought of Laurent dressed in a stunning white cloak as pale as his skin, gold laces intricately holding the Veretian garment together, strings of sapphires that brought out his eyes sparkling in the light. He admits it – he had wondered just how bright Laurent could shine, now that the barriers of ice had melted. No matter, Laurent had been blinding from the start.

But a battle had just reached its end, a tale its denouement, and there were many loose ends to tie up. So, reluctantly, Damen lets Laurent help him up, lets him bear his weight as his midsection protests. He could not have hoped for better. Massive bloodshed within the gates of Ios had been eluded, their birth right reclaimed, and Laurent was smiling.

The bells were still ringing.

 

* * *

 

 

Damen realises he has no clue on how to proceed. Even the aftermath of the battle at Marlas could not compare to the scope of the situation that lay before him right now, waiting to be resolved. Then, he had only been tasked with small affairs, his father taking the brunt of the responsibility along with-

Kastor. He was dead now, killed by a beloved’s hand, and Damen cannot rouse enough remorse within himself to grieve for his brother. Then again, he had lost Kastor many moons before. Perhaps he never really had Kastor, no, never as a brother.

But now the future of two extensive kingdoms, and the middle that was _theirs_ , rested on the shoulders of Damen and Laurent. And Damen was unused to bearing such a weight alone.

No, that’s not right. He wasn’t alone. Perhaps his past was unsalvageable, too riddled with holes from past betrayals and treachery, but he had Laurent. Laurent who at this moment was mingling with the common Akielons, dressed in fine Akielon cloths. He snuck a glance out the window that overlooked the castle courtyard, and sure enough, there was Laurent amidst a gaggle of children and women.

The men had been won over, and perhaps the old Laurent would have gotten acquainted with the common women and children as well, but the old Laurent would have done it for information pertaining to his plans, to be wielded as tool in the future. This Laurent joked with those beneath his rank in a tongue not of his birth, fitting into the tapestry that was Akielos as if he had always been a golden thread woven into the pattern. Perhaps it was this capacity for warmth that had always been in him, although suppressed behind a wall of ice in Vere, that had inspired loyalty in those who could discern it. Perhaps this was why he still hears the castle slaves remark on how kind the Veretian prince was. To think Damen had not believed it for a second when Erasmus had said the same to him moons ago. Laurent looked up from the courtyard, gaze making a beeline right to Damen’s own eyes, and smirked at Damen as if he had heard the Akielon king-to-be’s thoughts, before turning away.

 

* * *

 

 

His Ascension was scheduled in two days’ time, just enough to sort the disarray wreaked in Ios. The workers of Akielos had always been efficient, and the seamstresses had already prepared a new wardrobe for their future king and, at his behest, a few garments for the Veretian prince, who would only be departing back to Vere at the end of the week of coronation festivities. Just over a week – that was how long he and Laurent had to make some sense of the muddled future of their inheritance and themselves.

As if on cue, Laurent sweeps in through the doorway then, clothed in Akielon finery. Damen takes one look at the crown of daisies that sat atop his golden hair, and promptly burst out laughing.

Laurent shot him a withering look, probably out of habit, which softened into a smile of exasperation. Fair fingers reached up to delicately untangle the stalks from his own locks.

“Not as barbaric as you expected?” Damen jibes.

Laurent met his gaze coolly, “I’ll save that judgement after more time in the courts.”

 

* * *

 

 

Caught up in the hectic preparations for his ascension, Laurent and Damen could barely find time to converse. Any discussion that was to happen had to be made after the coronation. Which would start in an hour at most.

Damen paced his quarters. He had practiced for this day, and could probably stride across the hall to the stand blindfolded, reciting the ceremonial words by heart, but he could not rid himself of the nerves. Laurent, though. Laurent would be as unflappable as ever, veneer ever-calm.

“You? Scared of an audience? Who would have thought?” Laurent had laughed.

“Only the large ones,” Damen protests.

“Haven’t you had your fair share of audiences more vile then those on your side?”

“This… it’s different, this time.” Laurent would not be by his side, this time.

The weight on his shoulders was unfamiliar. Rich cloth, adorned with rubies and gold. A long cape swept behind him as he walked. Then Nikandros came, and leads him to the entrance. The large doors of the Great Hall swung open, and Damen is met by the sight of Laurent dressed in ceremonial finery. His blonde hair was braided back, arranged with a glittering lion pin. The colours were a Veretian blue, but the dress was Akielon, void of pesky laces and embroidery. The whole ensemble was less contrived than Damen’s own. The blue was more muted compared to the burning crimson that covered Damen’s shoulders. The gold within the blue was more subtle, catching the light like moonbeams slipping past clouds on a deep night, rather than the swathes of gold that shone like the sun that flowed over his broad shoulders to sweep the floors in his wake.

Traditionally, it would be a court official with high standing, an advisor, regent, or, albeit rarely, the old king, crowning the new, but most that had been loyal to Damen were dead. And Damen would not have any that had sat in the courtroom and acquiesced to Kastor and the Regent crown him. After much collaboration, the council had caved.

The proceedings were tedious, but still, it seemed like not much time had passed before the moment approached. Laurent reverently took up the regalia of Akielos, gold sceptre studded with rubies in one hand, and a minature lion’s head cast in gold in the other, and passed them gracefully to Damen, who had divested himself of his gloves.

Damen recited the pledge to his people, as practiced, before handing back the sceptre to be kept in the glass case once more. Falling to his knees amidst hushed gasps in the crowd, he bows his head as he feels gloved hands rest a crown on his head.

“Rise, King Damianos of Akielon, and greet your people.” Laurent’s voice, as level but clear as always, resonated throughout the hall. And even though he had not raised it at all, Damen had no doubt everyone had heard. His Veretian accent was less pronounced, now, and barely discernible to the untrained ear.

Damen turns, and sees his people prostrate themselves row after row, a wave of pledges of loyalty down the hall and into the courtyards. He picks out Nikandros smiling at him with great pride, Makedon winking at him, Jord sending a nod in his direction. His breath stops, and that was even before Laurent stepped down, soundlessly passing Damen to join the audience on the floor, and knelt as a prince would to a king, bowing his head.

It was just like Laurent, to kill two birds with a single stone. In kneeling when it had not been required of him, he had addressed those troubled by their King kneeling to Vere’s crown prince. And with the same action he had conveyed to Damen so much more.

Damen, naïve and trusting as he had been, might have teared up a little. King Damianos tried his hardest not to.

 

* * *

 

 

Feasts in Akielos had always been magnificent, and the banquet tables were laden with roast meat, juicy fruits, aged wine and the best dishes Akielon cuisine had to offer. Dancers weaved through the crowd, as servers refilled goblet after goblet.

Makedon brought along with him an endless supply of spirits and Griva, gods know where he kept it, and cajoled Laurent into drinking once more. Laurent was the epitome of dignity and class, even as he drank, the only difference from this time and the last being smiles more frequently given, and a surplus of unsurprisingly witty comments made without malice.

“You’ve gotten better at holding your spirits,” Damen states, as Laurent managed to stand and walk, albeit shakily, towards his chambers.

“Griva does speed up the process, I think. Wine no longer has the same effect. I’d wager it’d take thrice the amount to achieve what it used to.”

The tension in Laurent’s shoulders was gone, and the biting remarks were nowhere to be found. Then Laurent stumbles, and Damen moves on instinct to catch him.

“Still not good enough, I see. Take it easy, Laurent.”

“It’s fine. I can at least make it back to my quarters unaided.”

“This proves otherwise. I doubt you would even make it past this hallway.”

Laurent sways on his feet, Damen’s hand still steadying him. “Mm just a little sleepy. I can manage.”

“Walk with me. To my quarters. It’s much closer. I’m sure you can manage that, at least.”

Laurent seemed to be ready to protest, but Damen can see the moment Laurent gives in, probably too tired to protests.

“And would this, ah, visit, have any other motives, your Majesty,” Laurent teased.

“Perhaps, had his _highness_ not have been in such a state,” Damen returned.

“Shame,” Laurent laughs, and Damen finds his eyes drawn to his lips, stained even redder by strong wine.

He thanks the heavens that Laurent falls into a deep slumber within seconds, curling up towards Damen and resting his head on his chest as Damen draws up the sheets, taking off his heavy cloak to drape it over them instead.

They wake up like that too, then depart for the baths and a change of clothes. They part when some of the Council and Damen’s friends approach, and before long, midday was upon them.

The celebratory air was still prominent in Ios. The streets were filled with colour, and Damen had no doubt light, song and dance would resume once night had fallen.

But the worries had crept back into Damen’s mind, and he finds himself sending a summons after Laurent.

“You called.” Laurent states perfunctorily as he approaches. How far they had come, when the last time Damen sought an audience with the Prince of Vere he had had to beg a third party and had been treated with distrust. Damen was still bent over a map stretching from Vere to Akielos, brows furrowed.

“What are we going to do, Laurent? About our lands?” He could hear the slight helplessness in his voice, and was sure Laurent, being as observant as he was, would not miss how overwhelmed he was.

Damen had consolidated a list of possible goals they could strive for, and Nikandros had contributed many problems for each one.

They could unite their lands, but will all of the people accept that so readily, when the countries had been enemies for ages? What of the wealth of each kingdom? Or the hugely conflicting cultures and stigmas?

Damen unloads all these upon Laurent, whose expression gentles.

“You have no cause to worry over matters such as these.”

“I have never had to make decisions this great.”

“You have me, and when have I ever been wrong?” Laurent smiles, and strangely, this reassures Damen more than his words could have.

“I am here to assist where I can,” Laurent continues, “I’ll have a proposal drawn up and sent to you by tomorrow if that would unburden your mind.”

“I regret that I cannot help you more, that my inexperience leaves me lost and you alone in such a time.”

“Oh, Damen, but I’m not alone. You can and will help. You already have. Your judgement has always been true, and you heart in the right place. You are already a great and worthy king.”

“If only I could see myself as you see me.”

“Trust me, you wouldn’t like what you see. I don’t think _that_ highly of you, you know. And when am I ever wrong?”

Damen laughs. “Not this time, I hope.”

Laurent’s eyes gleam, probably taking his words as a challenge.

 

* * *

 

True to his word, there was a document sitting on Damen’s desk the next morning. Laurent had outdone himself, detailing clauses about open borders and a neutral zone spanning the centre that the both held. Delpha or Delfeur, and the other bordering cities. It pointed out how the men tasked for border patrols would be freed up, how there was enough men to oversee that the transition goes smoothly with the people.

Borders will be open, and trade would be more efficient and convenient than ever. Language and culture would take time to assimilate, and Laurent emphasized on educating the slaves and servants the basics of the foreign tongue. Their kingdoms will be governed separately, under separate Councils and King, and their wealth would stay in their own kingdom’s vaults so as to not spark any dissent. Laurent made it clear in his wording that Vere was willing to aid Akielos if ever a need arises, and Damen knew that he, too, would send help to Vere if necessary.

Any altercation between a citizen of Vere and a citizen of Akielos would be brought under the jurisdiction of a separate Court, one consisting of equal numbers of Veretians and Akielons, and trials of this nature would take place at the centre, where a courthouse was to be built. Laurent suggested many other uses for this courthouse, such as an information bureau for those wanting to find out more about what was on the other side, or planning on taking up residence or starting a business on the other side. He proposed a small castle be built at Delpha by architects of both Veretian and Akielon origins, and further decisions concerning both kingdoms be made there.

All the concerns Damen had brought up, Laurent had remembered and addressed flawlessly. Damen was sure even Nikandros could not come up with anything Laurent had yet failed to address.

There was a separate letter unattached to the main document. It was penned in a script more cursive, with Laurent’s flourishes in the letters. The contents spoke to Damen, about possibilities in the future. About how they could merge their currencies and truly unify the countries once they see how things go, of how they could build a more glorious empire _together_. It spoke of how much he would miss Damen when he had to return to Vere, and how much he had loved the times when they had worked together and gotten along. It spoke of happiness, of promise, of the future, and Damen had never loved Laurent more.

 

* * *

 

 

Laurent ascended the day he turned twenty-one, and Damen was there watching from the front rows, and he bowed as the court knelt, a gesture from a king to a king. They were equals now in rank and stature. Laurent would soon address his people from the balcony of the castle, as per Veretian tradition. But he would have Damen up there with him, as he declared an era of peace and open borders, a resolution to the battle of Marlas, an end to the conflict over Delfeur, and a new alliance between Vere and Akielos, free of deceit.

Damen had never doubted Laurent’s ability to win over anyone who heard him speak, but it was apparent how much the Veretians adored their prince, and Damen was sure the Akielons were starting to be won over. Repairs and rebuilding were underway in both kingdoms, and since most of the conflict had taken place in Akielon land, Laurent had gifted Akielon with a hefty sum of gold from his own vaults. Conditions in Vere have improved greatly from the Regent’s rule, and the markets were brimming with both goods and chatter. Vere was the very picture of prosperity, and Laurent had managed this within the span of a few moons. He had written to Damen, reminding him that ‘I’m here if you ever need counsel, or advice, or just a friend across the border.'

Just a friend, Laurent wrote, but Damen yearned for more.

 

* * *

 

Veretian celebrations had never been subtle, and this one was no exception. Damen thought he had gotten used to the flamboyance of Veretian decorations, but the hall was brighter than anything he had ever seen, tapestries hanging over every wall, and rich curtains covering the doorways. Banners hung along the streets, the starburst emblem present wherever the eye can see. The pets still sat with their masters or mistresses, and slaves undulated to suggestive songs. “All willing,” Laurent had assured him. “I checked.” Laurent had explained to him before, when Damen had inquired about freeing all slaves and abolishing slavery altogether, how slavery for some was truly a better alternative than their past lives.

Damen knew Laurent had always been kind to innocents. Erasmus had told him so, and he could see now how his interaction with Nicaise had been of kindness despite him being of the Regent’s household. Torveld had come to Vere to pay homage to the newly-crowned King Laurent, and was now conversing with him at a table, looking les star-struck than he had before.

Star-struck, what a befitting expression for the king of Vere. Damen approaches Erasmus, a glass of some colourful and sweet Veretian concoction in his hand. He offers it to Erasmus, and he sips docilely. He looks up through his long lashes, before averting his gaze downwards and to the sides, posture shifting into one just a little more reverent and submissive.

“Your Majesty.”

“You may speak to me as you always have, Erasmus.”

“If that is what you wish. Thank you, for all you have done to help a humble slave.”

“It was the right thing to do. Tell me, Erasmus, are you happy?”

Erasmus blushes, and turns his head to where Torveld and Laurent are laughing.

“Yes. You were right, there are better masters. Torveld treats me well.”

“I’m glad to hear it. You would have been cherished at Akielos, but I am glad you have found your way to Patras. I wish you happiness.”

“Likewise,” Erasmus smiles back.

Torveld approached them, alongside Laurent, and he bows to Damen.

“King Damianos, who would have thought. You seem to have lived up to your name,” he says, inclining his head towards Laurent. Torveld runs a hand through Erasmus’ hair, and Erasmus’ eyes close as he leans in to the touch.

“If you would excuse us,” Torveld asked, and Laurent replied with a laugh, “Go ahead and enjoy yourselves.”

Laurent turns to Damen then, and pins him under his blue gaze. His expression softens.

“I think we have established that my voice has broken. Now I shall establish that I am not unwilling to leave my own coronation banquet for other pursuits.”

 

* * *

 

Damen blames the wine, but he follows Laurent as he parts a wall hanging to reveal a doorway, follows him through labyrinthine corridors, follows him into the royal chambers and Laurent’s bedroom.

“Attend me,” Laurent says, voice low but insistent, as he turns around to face Damen.

“ _Attend me_ ,” Laurent urges, spreading his arms slightly and backing towards the expansive bed.

Damen steps forward as the back of Laurent’s knees hit the mattress, and pushes Laurent down onto the bed, kissing him.

Laurent hums, reciprocating in turn. When they break apart, he says, “I’m sure we could do without a few articles of clothing.”

Damen, still on top of Laurent, begins to unlace his garments. It seemed as though the grandeur of garments was decided by the intricacies of the lacing, as Damen had never seen so many laces, weaving in and out multiple eyelets, in his time in Vere. He starts at Laurent’s neck, unravelling loops after loops of ribbons that kept doubling back, deciphering the patterns woven into the fabric, and the section around his neck falls open.

Damen dives in eagerly, pressing his lips to Laurent’s neck as Laurent arched beneath him, breaths quickening. He moves to kiss the inside of Laurent's wrists, pulling off the gloves with this teeth and he undoes the bows there the same way. The sleeves part as Damen kisses his way up, laces giving way to the king of Akielon. When he does the same to the other one, the sleeve falls open to reveal a cuff of gleaming Akielon gold, and Damen pauses.

"Still?" he inquires.

"Always," Laurent confirms, grasping at the back of Damen’s shirt, and Damen moves back to allow Laurent to slip the cloth over his head. Laurent’s gaze roams appreciatively over the planes of his body. He had resumed his normal training regimen that he hadn’t been able to follow as a captive prince, and it seems that Laurent would agree that it had done him some good.

Damen continues unlacing, and soon they were both bare-chested, and Laurent was running his fingers over the indentations of Damen’s back, and Damen continues to press kisses on Laurent’s cheeks, his lips, his neck, his collarbones, the hollow between them, his breastbone, his belly, reaching lower and lower.

Laurent keens at the loss as Damen draws back, and sits up when Damen does not immediately resume his touches.

Damen is at the foot of the bed now, and not breaking Laurent’s gaze, he bends down and kisses Laurent’s boot, before pulling at the laces with his teeth. He makes his way up, slowly, slowly, and mouths at Laurent’s still-clothed erection. Laurent lets out a low moan, writhing slightly beneath Damen, who starts pulling away at the laces. The pants go quickly, opening up beautifully to reveal stretches of unmarked pale skin, and Damen's pupils dilate as he continues his ministrations with nothing in the way, arousal stirring up deep within him.

“Damen,” Laurent breathes, as his hands find the way to Damen’s hips, and he tugs his breeches down. Damen moves over Laurent, slowly and sensually, bare skin sliding over bare skin until they were face to face.

And then Damen hesitates.

The Regent’s words ring in his head. _He was so lonely after his brother died_. And Damen feels a new pang of guilt.

Laurent sensed his hesitation. “Damen? Damen, what’s wrong?” Laurent presses a kiss to the corner of his mouth, wrapping his arms around his shoulders.

“We don’t have to, if you don’t want to.”

“I want to, it’s just-”

“My uncle?”

Damen nods.

Laurent eases back on the bed, drawing Damen into his arms.

“I’m past that. He won’t be able to meddle in my life, not anymore. We made sure of that. It’s you I want.”

Laurent presses a kiss to Damen’s temple, “I love you.”

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be one long political drama about every single thing that goes wrong and how Laurent fixes each one with a decent helping of angst and fluff but I realise I cannot write long political dramas. I also cannot write endings or smut so. Sorry not sorry.  
> Maybe one day.
> 
> Also is it just me imagining things or did the last bit of Kings Rising sound like a proposal? I mean, come on. There were bells. When else would there be bells? A royal wedding. (Idk tbh but it happened in Cinderella so)


End file.
